


Cupid & Psyche

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Innocence, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Virginity, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 276





	Cupid & Psyche

Have you ever met a very important person under the worst possible circumstances? Call it star- crossed lovers, soulmates, or fate— it doesn’t matter. All I know is that the day I met Spencer Reid was the best and worst day of my life.

It started like any other normal day, and almost ended like it, too. But it didn’t.

There is something distinctly terrifying about your home no longer being safe. That’s what happened that night. I was just lying in bed, trying to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep, when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door to my house being broken down.

With no subtlety or caution, it took the man less than 2 minutes to find his way into the first bedroom.

That room happened to be mine.

I don’t remember much, but I do remember the sharp pain of something hitting me over the head as I tried to open my window. With perfect clarity, I can always recall the look on his face when he pinned me against the ground just to realize I wasn’t the one he was looking for.

He left me there.

Survivors guilt, Spencer had assured me multiple times, isn’t only a product of situations where someone else dies. And that was clear, because my roommate had lived, and I still felt terrible. Terrible that she had been the target of most of the monster’s rage.

I was the one who had called 911, and was surprised when I heard the sound of swiftly approaching sirens. I didn’t stay on the floor. Painfully and slowly, I tried to crawl through my concussed delirium to my friend.

Luckily, the FBI made it there first. A voice loudly announced their arrival, and I felt a wave of immense relief rush through me. The first person to make it through the door, however, wasn’t what I was expecting.

The first thing I noticed was that he wearing red converse high tops with mismatching socks. The second thing I noticed was how soft his hands were when they pushed my hair out of my face, helping me off the ground.

Maybe it was my damaged brain, or simply the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but this stranger wrapping his arms around me felt like home. The way he picked me up and carried me out of the building gave me the strength to breathe as he gently instructed me to.

Spencer had since then told me about transference, that I only liked him as a person now because he had been there to help me when I was in danger. But I didn’t remember anyone else from that night. I didn’t talk to any of them.

It was just him. 

When I got to the paramedics, he kept my hand in his. He didn’t leave and he didn’t ask me what happened. Instead, he asked me about things I loved; the things that made me happy. It was a welcome distraction.

Spencer somehow kept me sane. Not just that day, but every day after that. At first, he kept in contact with me through letters. Like, as in _snail mail_ letters. From less than thirty minutes away. And as romantic as it was, I quickly realized I needed more.

He must have felt the same, because soon, I received a letter containing only his phone number. I called him immediately, and we talked for nearly 3 hours. It felt so effortless.

Talking to him made the darkness brighter. It made the painful memories change into something we could share. He kept me tethered to reality and made me want to stay there.

After a few months, we finally decided to see each other in person again. He made sure we were always in public. At first, he said it was because he wanted me to associate the outside with happiness again; remind me that I could exist in the world and things could be good. But I think it was something else.

With Spencer, there were clear boundaries.

On the day I told him about my new apartment, he insisted on walking me home. Standing outside the door to my new home, I think he could tell I wanted to kiss him. I didn’t end up doing it. I just couldn’t, especially consider the fact that, earlier, he had told me about the only time he ever crossed a boundary with a victim on a case.

Perhaps sensing the indecisiveness in the sway of my body on the balls of my feet, he all but flat out said that we could never happen. I was so desperate to keep him in my life that I didn’t even try to fight for him. I’m not sure which he hated more.

Since then, each time we met, he would follow me back to my apartment, but never further than that.

I never asked him to come in, no matter how badly I wanted to. I wondered if it would always be like that. I hoped not.

And that hope was the reason why I waited up each time he left, no matter what. I would sit there for at least an hour, hoping that he would change his mind and turn back around to knock on my door and beg to come inside.

It didn’t seem so crazy, that one day it would be too much and we’d have to act on it. So, when I heard a hard, anxious knock on my door not 20 minutes after he left, I walked over, anticipation building with each step towards it; I opened the door.

The only thing I saw before the world went dark was that the man on the other side of the door wasn’t Spencer.

— The Next Day —

I woke up to stale air that reeked of bleach. Some vague memory dictated that I’d been in a place like this before. Opening my eyes slowly, I realized in the dim light that I was in a motel room.

The memories all came back at once. I shot up in the bed in a panic, running to the door to realize it was locked. The windows were locked, too.

My heart felt like it would burst through my chest, the blood rushing in my ears and my hands shaking more than I thought possible. The sound of my hurried breath filled the room and my mind.

That was, until I heard him.

“Hello?” Spencer’s voice came from behind the door of the shared room. I ran over to it, both hands against the wood as I whispered back.

“Spencer?”

“(Y/n)?” The shock in his voice hurt my chest, “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are… are you okay?” I returned, listening in the relative silence for whatever truth or information I could glean from it.

“Yeah.” He was doing something, but I couldn’t tell what, until a small piece of paper was nudged through the gap in the bottom of the door. In Spencer’s characteristically goofy writing, I could make out the message.

‘ _I recognized him. My team is on the way. We just have to stall. I’m sorry_.’

I wanted to ask him why he was sorry, but it was clearly not safe to speak about it. I guessed we were being watched.

Beside me, there was a webcam set up facing the bed, the light indicating it was on. So. I took the paper, folding it up and putting it into my pocket.

“Why are we here?” I asked, unable to resist.

Spencer paused, probably trying to figure out what he could say. But if he recognized him, surely he knew why we were here?

“I made a mistake.”

I let the vague words hang, pulling my hands back from the wood just in time to hear the lock unlatch from the door.

“Open the door.” A third, garbled voice came through a speaker in the room. They didn’t have to tell me twice; I threw the door open and quickly jumped into Spencer’s arms.

They still felt like home.

His face buried in my hair, his hands clinging to me like static, he somehow already started to ease the dread. But we were still here. He whispered into my ear, “I’m so sorry. He must have heard me talk about you. I-I just…”

 _Talk… about me?_ I thought, wishing I could pull back and ask for more, but knowing this wasn’t the time.

“I just don’t understand. This… so far he’s only targeted a very specific type and it doesn’t fit. I didn’t think I was putting you in danger.”

His words were fast and hushed, it was dizzying. His breath on my ear and the confusing nature of the words made the anxiety set in again.

“What type?” I asked, scared of the answer. I wasn’t sure which was worse- the situation actually being my fault this time, or this being second time my associations had led me straight into the hands of a serial killer.

“… Virgins.”

The word sent a shock through my body as I got my answer, and I immediately broke apart from the embrace. My cheeks burned as they flushed, my chest heaving with the realization that this time it was at least partially because of me that this was happening.

But Spencer didn’t know that about me. Was this man stalking me? How did _he_ know? It didn’t really matter, though. Because we were already here.

And Spencer was watching me with a confused concern that quickly morphed into an expression of horror.

“ _Oh_.”

That was all he said. He tried to shield the mounting panic from my perception, but failed. I didn’t know what was going on. Evidently, he did. He either couldn’t tell me, or didn’t want to.

Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Take a seat on the bed.” The robotic voice commanded. Suddenly, my feet felt bolted to to the floor. I was too scared to move.

Spencer recognized my deer in the headlights expression and put his hands on me, trying to help me onto the bed. One hand brushed over my pocket that kept the note in it.

The message was received. We just had to stall. It would be okay.

Once we’d sat down, he didn’t remove his hands. One stayed on the small of my back and the other held onto my hand resting on my thigh. It was the only thing keeping me from screaming.

“Dr. Reid,” the voice started, and his fingers gripped harder against me as it did. “You have spent months now in denial. You have deprived not only yourself, but (y/n) of one of life’s greatest treasures.”

The man speaking paused like he was disgusted with the both of us. “Do you honestly believe that you know better than the divine universe?”

Spencer was breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on the camera, but the side of his body pressed up against mine.

“No.” There was hatred in his voice.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What treasure?” I piped in, unable to control myself with the adrenaline lighting every nerve I had on fire. Spencer looked at me now, like he was remembering something. His clenched jaw slackened along with his hands.

“Love.” The voice answered for him.

I looked away from Spencer, tucking my hair behind my ear as I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. Was this psycho trying to play matchmaker? There were simpler ways to do that. None of which involved kidnapping.

“Your inaction cannot stand any longer. It ends today.” The speaker instructed as the lights began to dim even further. The soft glow of yellow reminded me of candlelight.

This man was insane.

“I will be your Cupid. I will guide you through the hardest part. When it is over, you will thank me for doing what you were too afraid to do.”

When I realized what he meant, I wanted to respond. I wanted to scream back that we didn’t need his help; that I didn’t want it to happen like this. But I couldn’t. Spencer was gripping me so tightly, begging me with his eyes to remember not to fight.

We just had to stall. But what did that mean? And for how long? Was I supposed to…

“Whenever you hear the sound of this bell,” he paused to allow a chime to fill the room, the lights pulsing in time, “you will proceed to the next step.”

I couldn’t breathe. My head was pounding along with my heart, and I clutched my chest to try and convince myself I was still alive at all.

“If you do something wrong, Dr. Reid, you will hear this noise.” A harsh buzzer sound tore through the room, and I flinched like the sound had shocked me.

“If you fail three times, I will have no choice but to take her away from you.”

Spencer’s hand was shaking.

“Because if you fail, you don’t deserve her,” he clarified before the bell chimed again. “You may begin.”

“Spencer, **what** is going on?” I immediately asked, tears welling in my eyes as he turned to bring me closer. He pulled my face to his chest, shushing me gently.

“I’m so sorry.” He croaked before breaking us apart. With his hands firmly on my shoulders, he swallowed. “I-I… I have to…”

The terror in my eyes was, I’m certain, the least romantic thing in the world.

“I have to kiss you. Is that… is that okay?”

On instinct I shook my head no, only because nothing about this was okay. I’d wanted to kiss Spencer for months, but not like this. Not if he didn’t want to.

“Yes.” I answered so quietly I’m surprised he heard it.

“Are you sure?”

I felt like time was running out. Like any second now, the buzzer would ring. It felt suffocating and overwhelming, and something told me that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough for Spencer to believe me.

So, I took action. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands tangling in his hair as I drew him closer. When we touched, the first thing I noticed were that his lips were somehow softer than I’d imagined. The kiss was hesitant and panicked, but I tried not to focus on that.

Instead, I tried to feel the emotions that were hiding behind the tidal wave of fear. I was too afraid to end the kiss entirely, so when I stopped to breathe, I opened my eyes to look into his.

He seemed… lost. In what, I was unsure. I bit down on my bottom lip that still tingled with the feeling of his.

This time, he was the one to move. He placed both of his hands against my cheeks. The warmth and security the touch provided felt like a life vest keeping me afloat while stranded at sea.

I gave myself to the kiss, and Spencer seemed to respond to that. Slowly and without breaking apart, his hands slid down my sides and brought us as close as the position would allow.

It felt like an eternity kissing him, and not in a bad way. I tried to forget what had led to this. I knew it was playing into what this creepy motherfucker wanted, but it was all I could think to do.

If this had to be the first time Spencer and I kissed, I wanted it to be as much like I wanted it to be as I could make it.

That was the thought I had when the bell chimed. I jumped at the sound, my fingers wrapped within his hair tightening slightly.

“W-What does that mean?” I asked under my breath. He sighed, pressing our foreheads together and clenching his eyes shut.

“I don’t know.” They were his least favorite words, and it only made it worse to say them here, under these circumstances.

He was shifting in place, trying to think of what to do, or say, or anything. Eventually, he managed to open his eyes. “Can I try something?”

Dumbly, I nodded. Despite telling me, I was still surprised when he lifted me off the bed, carrying me a few feet before laying me down on my back. I turned my face to the side and saw the light of the camera staring back at me.

Dread set through my stomach, and I gripped Spencer’s arms like they could provide me safety. He used a hand to gently guide my face back to him.

He looked so different like this. I hated to have these thoughts right now, but it was impossible not to. The way he looked at me with his pupils blown wide in the golden light was intoxicating. And when he licked his lips, I remembered that they were the very same ones I had just kissed.

“Are you okay?” His voice was shaking as much as his arms, like he was holding himself back from so much. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded instead.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

I arched my back when I felt his hand begin running down my side. It was terrifying and humiliating, to have this experience knowing someone was watching. Knowing that something horrible will happen if I don’t play along. It hurt worse knowing that it would also hurt Spencer either way.

“I-If you stop… he’ll hurt you.”

He smiled at me, a sad, meaningful smile as as he spoke, “I’d rather he hurt me than I hurt you.”

I didn’t even realize the tears falling down my face until his thumb began to wipe them away. He gave me a quiet, chaste kiss on the lips before moving to my jaw. I gasped at the sensation, my hands wrapping around his head when his lips were against my neck.

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better than this.”

The words felt like daggers to my heart, and I tried not to think about the rest of the world for a moment. I stared at the pattern on the ceiling, letting my body respond however it saw fit to the way Spencer delicately laid his lips across the column of my throat.

“Just…” His voice caught in his throat, and the words stuck to my skin, “Just pretend that I’m someone else.”

My mind immediately rebelled against the thought, but I couldn’t tell him why. This situation was fucked up enough. I can’t even imagine pausing to take a moment to say, ‘ _Hey, by the way, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. When we escape from the serial killer, do you want to try this again sometime?_ ’

“I can be whoever you need me to be,” he continued.

It just made me feel even worse. I felt so guilty, to think that some part of me _was_ enjoying the way his body felt pressed up against me. But what if he wasn’t? In some fucked up way, was I an accomplice in his suffering?

“Just close your eyes and picture someone you love.”

I didn’t have to close my eyes for that, but I did it nonetheless, hoping that it would make it easier for him. Finally finding the courage to move, I hooked one of my legs around his, pulling his body closer to me and sighing at the way it felt when he bumped against me.

His tongue on my neck became more insistent, and I bit down on my lip to prevent myself from giving the creep watching any satisfaction. Still, I wondered how Spencer would have reacted.

“Kiss me, Spencer.” It was more a beg than anything else, with the purposeful use of his name. He dragged his nose up my jaw, opening his eyes to look at me with that calming look he gave me the first night he met me. Except this time, it was mixed with something else.

“Are you sure?” The way he said it lit a lightbulb in my mind, identifying that feeling as the same one I was experiencing.

 _Longing_.

“Please,” I whispered, my fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw as I guided his lips to mine.

I’d never done this before. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve kissed men, but never like this. I’d never had one of them hold me so softly, expressing so many emotions with just one little touch that it sent shivers down my spine.

I swiped my tongue against his lips, implicitly asking for his permission to continue, the same way he’d kept asking for mine. With only a little hesitation, he accepted. And no matter how hard I tried to contain it, I couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth.

He must have heard it, because he immediately brought his hand to my head, lacing it through my hair and pulling me impossibly closer to him. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to shut me up, or just look more convincing for the camera.

Maybe he just wanted to? Probably not.

It didn’t matter; the thought vacated my mind the second the bell chimed. My eyes shot open only to see that Spencer’s had opened, as well. There were only so many other steps we could take before things got way too real.

How much longer was his team going to be?

This time when he pressed our lips together, it was with more force than I was expecting. Soon after, his hand that was on my hip had begun sliding up my side under my shirt.

“Oh, _god_.” Embarrassingly, my skin broke out in goosebumps. I took a sharp inhale of breath, closing my eyes before his hand stopped completely in its tracks.

“Is this alright?”

If only he knew why I was reacting the way I was - the thoughts that I’d had about this exact feeling. The way that his skin was even softer, even warmer than I’d ever thought.

“Yes,” I sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he urged with a broken voice, “Please.”

Instead of trying to maneuver that conversation, I opted to kiss him. Having gotten past the initial stage of awkwardness, our mouths slid across each other with a renewed vigor.

That was, until his hand got to its resting place against my breast. My body entirely froze, and my exhale shook with all the nerves rushing back.

“You’re okay,” he whispered onto my lips, the words sounding even more intimate than our current embrace, “I won’t hurt you.”

And he didn’t. His touch was soft as his fingers danced along the outside of my bra. My eyes fluttered shut when he kissed me again. I wondered if he noticed the way his body was beginning to rock against mine ever so slightly. The friction was driving me insane.

“Tell me what you need from me,” he said through a heavy panting, “I-I want to give it to you.”

With a sudden rush of boldness, I tugged on his hair to separate the two of us enough to see the other’s eyes.

“The truth.” I said through swollen, well-kissed lips, “I want the truth.”

He looked terrified and confused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow the doubts no doubt crawling through him. “About what?” He asked quietly.

“Do you…” I paused, noticing the way his body froze in place, his hand shrinking back slightly to rest against my ribs. “D-Do you want me?”

With blown pupils and out of breath, Spencer’s mouth open and closed a few times as he tried to get his voice to make a sound.

I never got my answer.

Before I knew it, I heard the unfortunately familiar, unmistakable sound of a door crashing open. I closed my eyes, bringing my hands over my ears and shrinking into myself as the chaos rung through the room.

Spencer’s body left mine so quickly, I almost accepted that as my answer. When I opened my eyes, I saw him standing with his hands in the air; the same hands that had been holding me seconds earlier.

I didn’t move until JJ had come to my side, helping me off the bed and asking me a bunch of questions that felt so far away. Spencer frantically looked at the panic on my face before bolting out of the room.

He didn’t come back.

— _Two Weeks Later_ —

Every time I asked the team to see Spencer during the interviews, I would get an awkward non-answer, telling me that it was probably best he was left alone for now. And while I understood, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

My calls to him also went unanswered. Not that I needed to hear it from him - I could hear the same lines about professional boundaries and transference running on repeat in my head. I accepted that it was probably the only answer I’d ever get to the question that had sent him _literally_ running away from me.

Even if he did want me somehow, it wouldn’t ever happen. Especially not now. And as heartbreaking as that was, it didn’t make me want to see him less.

I _missed_ him. Not just his body that I momentarily got to hold, but his company. Since I met him, we’d become close friends. Dare I say he was my _best_ friend. To lose him to a serial killer’s perverse fantasy seemed… wrong.

I knew I had to give it one more try. I had to attempt to convince him one more time that things could be normal. At least, I hoped that things could be normal again.

Despite the sun quickly setting, I knew Spencer wouldn’t be anywhere near sleep if he was in town. The poor thing never slept. In fact, it was probably time for his evening cup of coffee he had every day like clockwork. I wanted him to share it with me, just like we used to.

So, after making myself presentable— no sense in going overboard when he probably wouldn’t even answer my phone call— I gathered my things to head to the cafe.

Quickly enough so that I couldn’t second guess myself, I dialed his number.

My phone was wedged between my shoulder and ear, balancing precariously as I struggled to hold my keys and purse. I paused for a moment, finding myself suddenly remembering the night I had opened my door to find someone else there.

And just like that, the door seemed so heavy; so impossibly difficult to maneuver. I stared at it vacantly and hoped that the feeling would disappear.

It did, but for a particularly strange reason — music.

It was the soft humming of Spencer’s ringtone on the other side of my door. It was so quiet and muffled, I almost didn’t believe it was real. But it was, and it was his. I would recognize it anywhere (God knows he gets too many calls from work).

Then, it was quieter; receding from my door as the man with it was about to run off again. Terrified that he would leave before I could talk to him, or just _see_ him and know that he was okay, I flung the door open without caring about what monsters might be on the other side.

Thankfully, there were no monsters. Just Spencer.

“… Hey.”

That was all the insight the genius had to explain why he was standing outside my door at 8pm for no apparent reason. But that was fine, because all I could offer in response was a shaky breath and another soft, “Hey.”

“Sorry to show up like this I just… I hoped we could… talk.” The nervous wobble of his voice did more to calm me down than I’d like to admit. In a way, it also made me guilty. I felt bad how relieved I was that he was also an anxious mess.

“Yeah.” I dumbly responded, not giving him any indication of what we should do next. His eyes kept glancing away from me, unable to maintain eye contact and looking at something over my shoulder.

“C-can we?” He finally asked, “Talk?”

“I’d like that very much.” I said that, but then didn’t move. So we just stood there for another couple of seconds until he was gracious enough to point out the flaw with my current plan of saying as few words as possible.

“Do you want to go to the cafe or do you want me to…”

“Come in?” I finished for him, before realizing that I was essentially blocking his way into my apartment.

“Oh. Yes! Please! Come in. You’re already here so, you should just come in,” I nervously rambled, trying to make sense of the fact that Spencer Reid was going to be inside my apartment… alone. “I-I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

Shuffling awkward inside, he just stood inside the door instead of outside of it. He was waiting to see where I would sit, but I hadn’t exactly decided yet, either.

“You know me well. I can’t ever say no to coffee.”

“Don’t think that one is exactly a well-kept secret, Spencer.” I responded with a light laugh, the butterflies returning to their soft flutter in my gut. It was weird how quickly we fell back into our rhythm.

He just nodded, accepting the slight dig at his caffeine habit. His eyes followed me across the room, his feet staying firmly rooted a few feet away from me even as I sat down on the couch.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked once he finally sat down, my hands smushed between my thighs as I tried not to give away just how nervous I actually was.

“The obvious thing, I think?” He clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it, either, which was reassuring in its own way.

“The serial killer kidnapping us thing?” I responded with a smile to hopefully lighten the incredibly tense environment.

“Yeah, that’s the one…” He laughed, running a hesitant hand through his hair. His tongue swept over his lips, and I tried not to stare at it. It was still so hard to believe that only a couple weeks ago that tongue had been on my lips and kissing my neck.

“I just…” His voice broke me out of my reverie, and I shook my head gently like it would physically knock the thoughts away. “I wanted to apologize. For everything. It was my fault you got wrapped up in it and… the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, a little bit.” He turned his legs towards me, but his upper body shifted further away. I’m not a profiler, but this really felt like mixed signals. “It was just… Morgan kept asking me questions and I let my guard down with suspects around and that was just so stupid. I never thought it could actually affect you. If I’d known you were a—“

Honestly, the fact he couldn’t even say the word virgin made me even _more_ uncomfortable. I hadn’t even decided whether I would ever tell him if I got a chance. But now it didn’t matter. He knew, and it clearly bothered him.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned you at all,” he amended his thoughts, “I’m sorry.”

But truthfully, there was something else weighing on my mind.

“What were you saying about me?”

“What?” His mouth puckered before he sucked his lips in, worrying the skin. I watched his hands begin to fumble with each other. But any distractions weren’t going to work right now.

I had waited long enough; I wanted answers. “He… he thought you were in love with me after what you said. So… what did you say?”

He grimaced, then took a sharp inhale before blowing out an equally uneasy breath. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t remember?”

… Said the man with the eidetic memory.

“Spencer!” I screeched with laughter, punching him on the arm. “What kind of lame ass excuse is that?”

“So, no?” He asked, obviously hoping that I wouldn’t push it. My glare told him that he had no such luck.

“I don’t know…” he started, looking down at his hands instead of me, “I was whining about not being able to see you because of the case and Morgan asked me if I’d ever considered being…”

There was that hesitance again, his teeth closing over his tongue to try and prevent the words from escaping. The words looked painful, which hurt me in turn. “More than friends,” he managed.

“And… What did you say?”

The lack of pause between his confession and my response only unnerved him more. He sighed, picking at his nails like those hands that had touched me so gently could work their way out of this.

“You know,” he muttered with a shrug, “Transference… professional boundaries…”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

“I see… Are those the only reasons?”

That caused him to look up, his eyes squinted with genuine confusion. But he had to know what I was asking, right? He heard himself when he spoke?

“I mean, are there other reasons? Like, do you not want to be with me? Do you not like me?”

“What?” He spoke far too loudly, and far too quickly, “I didn’t say that—!”

“Did you enjoy kissing me?” I cut him off, changing the route of the conversation to hopefully land us in waters that were more transparent, even if one of us would drown there all the same.

“That’s not a fair question,” he replied with a trembling voice, “It wasn’t exactly an easy time to distinguish feelings.”

“Then kiss me again.”

I heard the way the breath caught in his throat, his eyes widen and jaw slackened as his brain processed the request. He had heard me correctly, but for some reason his mind was rejecting it.

“What?”

“Kiss me, Spencer. Right now.” Sitting up straighter, I turned my body to him and moved closer. When our legs bumped together, I stole the warmth he so effortlessly gave. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his eyes flickering back and forth across my face.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I urged him, placing my hand more confidently on his leg, “I _want_ you to.”

He wanted to do it. I had to tell myself that, because otherwise I was ruining everything we had built. I’d been paralyzed with the fear of losing him for so long, but now I was just stuck with the desire and longing he’d left on my skin.

He _had_ to feel it. I could see it in his eyes.

“Please. Kiss me.”

Then, before I could blink, his arm was around me. Tugging me closer to him, his lips crashed onto mine clumsily, but with purpose. My hands flew around his shoulders, holding onto him and the moment as tightly as I could.

Apparently, he didn’t need that much convincing. Because now that we were here, his tongue was more insistent than that night in the motel. His hands roamed my body, and I could feel the desperate gasps for air between each movement.

For a moment, I almost tried to end the kiss, but he held my face to stop me from leaving too soon. When we did finally part, his teeth held onto my bottom lip as it slipped away.

The second he opened his eyes, they were burning into me. I let my lips tingle, catching my breath before I decided to ask the question I was still waiting for an answer to.

“So… What do you think?”

His answer took a form I wasn’t expecting. Before we could even fill our lungs, his mouth captured mine again. Although not the words I thought I would hear, I accepted the way he kissed me as confirmation that he felt the same stifling longing that had plagued me for so long.

When he pressed his whole body against me, I found myself leaning back and pulling him with me. Because this time, there was no one watching. It was just the two of us, allowed to surrender to the desire we’d danced around for so long.

“Spencer…” His name felt welcome on my tongue. His nails dragged across my back over the thin layer of my top, and goosebumps ripples over my skin.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he mumbled into my ear. His hands seemed so reserved, staying far away from the areas I wanted him to touch the most.

“Please, Spencer,” I whimpered, “touch me.”

His hands hesitated, hovering over my chest before falling back to my hip.

“I can’t.” The two words hurt, and the insecurities buried deeply in my mind were blossoming anew. He saw it, and immediately explained, “I can barely hold myself back when I kiss you, (y/n). If I touch you again, I…”

“I don’t want you to hold back.”

There was a long silence, his eyes displaying his thoughts so vividly in front of me. He was trying to determine whether I was lying. His logical brain told him what I was requesting was irrational, but it wasn’t.

“But you’re—you’re a…” Again, he had paused. He couldn’t say the word. I hoped that soon, he would never have to again- at least, not about me.

“And I’m asking you to change that.”

His eyebrows jumped up, his body moving away from me as he held a hand to his chest, obviously shocked by the idea. But was it really that surprising? I thought I had made my interest obvious over the past few months but apparently, I hadn’t.

“ _Me_?” His voice had nearly jumped an octave, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the sound.

“Yes, Spencer. You.” Still, he looked bewildered, like I was preparing for some massive practical joke. But I wasn’t. So slowly, I grabbed his hand, leading it to the bottom of my shirt and slowly pushing the fabric up.

The tips of his fingers were much too soft for someone who so often wielded a gun. I wasn’t going to complain; not while they ghosted around the edges of my bra.

“Show me what that genius brain is good for, Dr. Reid.”

I wasn’t sure what about that sentence it was— whether it was the honorific, the humor, or the flattery— but he sprung into action at a dizzying pace.

Within seconds he’d pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side before picking me up with ease.

I squeaked when I felt my body leave the couch. He hugged me close in the bridal position, not even bothering to look down at me as he made his way to my bedroom like he’d been there a million times before.

Wondering for a moment if he could actually see the stars in my eyes, I allowed myself to feel the burning anticipation and anxiety of what I hoped would follow.

Spencer looked nervous, too, but in an entirely different way.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” The words were spoken so quietly, I wasn’t sure how I even heard them.

It didn’t matter, though, because once his hands were on me any worries I had on that front disappeared as I whined, “Please, don’t stop.”

If he had been cautious in touching me before, he wasn’t any longer. Those large, warm palms slipped behind my back and unclasped my bra with only a little difficulty, which was impressive enough, considering I was lying down.

He waited for me to remove the bra, granting me the power to decide whether or not I wanted him to see me yet. While at first, I almost gave into the nervous voice in the back of my head telling me that I would never be good enough for him, I was persuaded not to listen by the calm and steady adoration in his eyes.

And those eyes roamed over my figure as soon as the garment was gone. Then his hand followed, hovering softly over my ribs before letting his fingers drift over my breast.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The romantic words only barely matched the dark, predatory tone that bled through each syllable. When he went to kiss me again, he let _those_ feelings come through loud and clear, his tongue claiming as much as it could reach.

I openly moaned into the kiss, my hand running down his side. Each muscle I touched would tense under my touch, and soon enough I rested my hand against his hip.

He ended the kiss, moving that skillful mouth down my jaw to my neck. I tried to sustain my thoughts long enough to voice them, eventually managing to speak. “Can I touch you?”

“ **Yes**. _God_ , yes,” he enthusiastically replied, pulling back just long enough to remove his shirt before his mouth continued its assault over my collarbones.

The spark that he lit inside of me was now raging through my entire body and I was becoming overwhelmed with how badly I needed things to escalate quickly. With an uncharacteristic bravery, I slipped my hand down between us so I could cup him through his pants.

His mouth that had been kissing me gently changed, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin as he stifled a moan against me. I let my fingers experiment, providing varying pressures as my hand slid along the smooth fabric of his slacks.

Spencer surprised me by beginning to rock into my touch, his hands gripping me tightly as he sought for things to escalate the same way I had. Which is probably why his hand also found the waistband of my pants.

“Can I take these off?” His voice was strained, trying to maintain the gentleness while his body undoubtedly told him to tear the fabric away without another thought. But he wanted me to want it; he wanted me to agree.

“Yes.”

With that, he didn’t waste time in removing them, his vision clinging to each inch of skin as it was exposed to him. Once they were out of the way, his hands held my legs during his ascent, his lips peppering soft kisses along the way.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the way it felt to be showered with his affections. My breathing was unsteady and loud as he pressed a long kiss against my inner thigh before withdrawing completely.

Huffing in minor annoyance, I opened my eyes to see him smile at the same time his hand cupped my sex over my underwear. I jumped with a gasp, but his hand remained still for a second as he read my reaction, trying to gauge my comfort level.

Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t begging him to stop, he began to move, rubbing soft strokes along the fabric. “Is this okay?”

“I want more.”

“Patience,” he chuckled, giving more pressure as he continued and noticing the dampness soaking through the fabric. He bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes closing as that obvious restraint returned. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“I told you,” I gasped between breaths, “I want more. I’m ready.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Without any other warning, one slender finger breached my entrance, and I nearly screamed from the sensation.

“Spencer!” I shouted, feeling my muscles clench around him as my body begged him for more. For the first time in awhile, he wasn’t kissing me. He was just watching me, noting the way my body squirmed around his touch.

“Is this the first time a man’s touched you here?”

I wasn’t actually expecting the question for some reason, which was silly, considering the nature of his job. However, he hadn’t figured out that I was a virgin, so how would he have noticed that I’d never gotten past second base?

That elusive darkness appeared in his eyes once again as I slowly moved to nod between the lewd noises. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer’s pupils dilated at the sound of my voice, and he casually brought another finger into me as he spoke, “I had no idea you were so fucking _innocent._ ”

No matter how difficult it was to speak, I tried to continue. I was worried that if I stopped, he might doubt my ability to continue. Truthfully, I hadn’t told him because I knew that so many men were terrified by the prospect of an emotional attachment from a hook up. But something told me that wasn’t an issue here, so I admitted it freely now.

“I didn’t want you to be scared.”

“I’m definitely not scared.”

He took my hand that had fallen away from his pants and brought it back to its prior resting place, rubbing it harshly against the fabric over his erection.

There was something about the way he was so comfortable commanding my movements, telling me where he wanted me and what to do that made this experience so much easier. But at the same time, I didn’t want him to feel like each step forward was only made by him.

“Take off your pants.” I made my instruction very clear, yet still whimpered when he removed his fingers. I watched the way they moved carefully, already missing their touch. But that was okay, because he was now using them to reveal something much better.

Although thrilling, the size of his length was simultaneously terrifying. I’d rarely used anything in those late night trysts with myself, and some illogical part of me was worried he wouldn’t be able to fit. But that was nonsense — we’re built for this, right?

Judging by the way he was beaming with pride, I’m guessing he had noticed my enthusiastic shock. I wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and replace it with something equally wanton, so I reached out and gripped his erection with no hesitation, beginning soft strokes along the length of him.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you.” The way he said it was not through clenched teeth or anger, but with a desperate desire. It made my body ache, wishing more than anything that I could give him that release.

“Then do it.”

“Not this time. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

_This time?_

Like he heard my thoughts, he repeated with a hint of a smile, “ _This time,_ I’ll be gentle.”

My eyes lit up with hope as he straddled my legs, one hand holding him up while he leaned forward to kiss me with as much longing as he had before. This time, however, the energy had shifted. The languid, sloppy kisses showed me that imprecision was okay, that imperfections were just as enjoyable.

Between us, I could feel the way he lined himself up against me, the tip of his sex pressed against my heat. Resting his forehead against mine, he spoke the words quietly and close, “Are you ready?”

Cautiously, I nodded, scared that my voice might break the moment. But Spencer didn’t appreciate my silence, and brought his hand up to caress my face. 

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Spencer.”

Unhurried, he sunk into me inch by inch, his eyes inspecting the way my face contorted with pleasure and a slight pain at the intrusion. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on my cheek as he continued for an impossibly long time.

“ _Fuck_ , (y/n),” he moaned, his eyes finally fluttering shut as he bottomed out inside of me, “You’re so tight.”

He was practically kissing me as he spoke, so I, too, mumbled the words into his mouth as he began to move, drawing out of me at a torturous pace.

“I was waiting for you.”

My words did more to him than I thought they would, and his hips snapped forward into me with one fluid motion. “Shit,” he cursed, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Although slow, his thrusts were strong, and each time he stretched me open my lower body would tremble, my fingernails digging into his arms or back — whatever I could reach.

Soon after, his movements became faster, with the sound of his low moans in my ear driving my pleasure to new heights. Something about the way our bodies started to meld together, with my mind unable to keep up with where I ended and he began, made another strange and familiar feeling bloom in my chest.

With both hands, I pulled his face back so I could look into his eyes, biting my tongue whenever my mouth wasn’t falling open with lustful sound.

“Spencer—I…“

I what? I knew what. Almost every fiber of my being begged me to just say it, let it be known so that we could move past it. But there was still that one piece of me that told me not to, that the words said in this circumstance would be tainted with distrust.

“Say it.”

The words caught me off guard, and my eyes met his to find not a single ounce of worry. Instead he stared at me, his gaze displaying the same words that hadn’t yet reached my throat. The rhythm of his movements faltered for just a second as he slowed his pace once more.

“Say it,” he repeated softer now.

“I love you.”

He smiled at the words, relief washing over his features as he waited another moment before he kissed me. In that time where the only sounds we could hear were our heavy breaths, hearts pounding, and our bodies joining, I could feel myself falling even more in love with him.

“I love you, too.” His answer pierced all the other sounds, and my back arched as all the feelings became too overwhelming. “ _God_ , I love you.”

The next kiss we shared was just as sloppy, but now it was only because our hearts were so full that they overflowed. I was drowning in the sensation of him surrounding every part of me, and I knew that he was the paradoxical cure — The only way I could get relief was to throw myself headlong into his love. 

And so, that’s what I did; I rushed into the pleasurable abyss without looking back. All the muscles in my body began to tense, and it only took one more rough thrust for me to come undone. I threw my head back against the pillows, shouting out what was supposed to be his name as my heat pulsed around him.

He groaned in pleasure, his hips hitting me harder now as he struggled to remain composed through the duration of my orgasm. I knew that’s what he was doing because seconds after it was over, he spoke.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last like this.”

Still out of breath, I panted while I responded, “Don’t hold back, Spencer.” The words were vague, but I could tell by the way the sweat dripped from his brow that he knew what I wanted. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he barely managed to get the words out to ask my permission one final time.

“Are you sure?”

Taking his face into my hands again, I forced him to look directly in my eyes that were clouded with lust and euphoria.

“Show me how I make you feel.”

Suddenly I saw something flicker in those golden irises that gave me a deeper understanding of just how precious this man was to me, and I to him. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, and I laced my fingers through his hair to hold me closer to me.

And then with one final thrust, I felt his muscles tense and tremble under my legs that were wrapped around his waist. An unfamiliar warmth spread through me, bringing with it a lightness in my limbs.

“(Y/n)…” He mumbled as his hips jerked a few more times, ensuring that my body accepted all that he had to offer me.

“Spencer,” I returned, giving one final moan before his weight fell onto me, his arms unable to hold himself up any longer.

We laid there like that for awhile, with him resting against my neck and feeling the way my pulse beat gently against his face. Meanwhile my hands drew barely-there pattens along his back and shoulders, trying to soothe the tired muscles.

Once he did move, he pulled out with a small hiss from the unwelcome friction. I couldn’t help but smile at just how tousled his hair had become during the frenzy. He didn’t notice, though, still too drunk on what had just happened.

He plopped down next to me on the bed, turning his head to look over my naked figure. When his eyes came back to my face, he must have noticed the emotions lurking behind the way I was staring at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek, “Did I hurt you?”

I turned my body towards him, but maintained the distance between us when I replied, “No, you didn’t.”

“Come here.”

We both smiled as he gave his chest a few small pats to show me exactly where he wanted me. Scooting over to him, I felt my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and unbridled joy.

I could hardly believe that I had just lost my virginity, and to _Spencer_ nonetheless. And now he was practically pulling me onto him because he couldn’t stand how slowly I was coming back to him.

After I was settled, he let out a sigh of relief, his hand stroking the top of my head and playing with my hair.

“Thank you. For letting me share this experience with you,” he explained quietly, careful not to move too quickly or speak too much. 

My palm rested over his heart, still just trying to accept that this wasn’t some crazy, wonderful dream.

“No, thank you, Spencer,” I said with a smile, “I put it off for so long because I was scared. I always heard horror stories about how it hurt and was so awkward and uncomfortable and…”

I tilted my head to look up at his face, finding him looking at me with a slight concern and an even larger curiosity. He was hoping I might ease that pained part of him that was still convinced he might have made a mistake.

“It didn’t hurt. It was wonderful.”

And then he smiled, his cheeks dimpling as it slowly took over his entire face the longer we stayed happily curled against the other. But soon he realized what the situation normally called for, and spoke the words I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you want me to stay?”

My mouth twisted into an awkward half-frown as I tried not to look bothered by the question. “Do you want to leave?” I returned, finding it to be the only safe way to respond.

“No,” the word was said with a nervous chuckle. 

“Then don’t leave.”

It seemed to be so simple; and it turned out it really was. Spencer wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with him. Not once during this experience had I been worried about transference, and the breaching of professional boundaries had been the furthest thing from my mind.

All I could think about when I lay with him was the way my heart felt like it was finally complete after years of searching for someone suitable to hold it. Resting my eyes for a few seconds before I would have to get up and ruin the moment to clean myself up before bed, I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking…” I started, causing more bubbly laughter to spill out of my lips between the words, “At least we don’t have to worry about me being a part of any more virgin sacrifices.”

He snorted back, shaking his head and bringing both arms around me and pulling me tighter. “No, we do not. But… I’m looking forward to showing you a few more new experiences.”

“I can’t wait,” I replied with a toothy grin, crawling further up to press a hard, passionate kiss against his lips. His fingers brushed through my hair, smiling into the kiss until we couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Good,” he said playfully, “Because we don’t have to wait.”


End file.
